


Two Surprises Part 3

by sir_kingsley



Series: Two Surprises [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Father!Dean, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:27:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir_kingsley/pseuds/sir_kingsley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months have passed since Dean found you in the motel and convinced you to come home. Dean has been a great help in your pregnancy and your relationship is on the mend but will the two of you be content to maintain this friendship as the end of your final trimester approaches?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Surprises Part 3

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here! Sorry for taking so long but, you know, school blows. Anyway, TA-DA! And the best part is that in the next one I'm pretty sure we'll finally see Dean as a daddy, so YAY! Thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Originally based off this post: http://super-natural-imaginess.tumblr.com/post/98612318542/part-1-requested-by-id-rather-be-sleeping95

“No, it doesn’t go there!”

“What’s wrong with that spot!”

“It’s too close to a power outlet!”

Sam blinked at his brother. “Are you kidding me? Dean, the kid’s arms are going to be like three inches long! It can’t reach the damn outlet!”

“But it could short circuit or something and catch fire,” Dean argued, already pulling the crib toward a new location. “And don’t call my kid an ‘it.’”

“Well, if you and (Y/N) had decided to learn the gender I would know which pronouns to use,” Sam grumbled and lifted his side of the crib.

“I wanted to know too, but (Y/N) wanted to be surprised and she’s the pregnant one. Besides, I told you the code name is Zepp.”

“And I told you that we are not calling our unborn child Zepp,” you said as you entered the makeshift nursery. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), it’s just a nickname,” Dean said as he found a suitable place for the crib at a safe distance from any power outlets.

“No,” you said firmly.

Sam struggled to open the box containing a diaper changing table. “What names are you considering?”

Dean pepped up. “Keepin’ it simple. Luke for a boy and Leia for a girl.”

Sam’s smile fell. “Dude, seriously? Star Wars?”

Dean shrugged. “What? They’re classics. Plus then I get to say, ‘Luke, I am your father.’” His Darth Vader impression made both you and Sam roll your eyes.

“If we’re going nerdy then I’m suggesting Harry and Hermione.”

Dean cringed dramatically. “God, (Y/N), you need to stop hanging out with Charlie.”

“No Harry Potter, no Star Wars.”

“Fine.”

You were about eight months along now. Your stomach was nice and round, your energy depleted, your feet and back constantly sore. But you were happy.

You could feel the kicks regularly and they never failed to make you smile. Your child definitely had rhythm and you didn’t doubt that came from Dean.

Things were better between the two of you, though it had taken quite a bit of time.

Life had been rough the weeks after he had found you in the motel and brought you home. You had moved all your stuff into your old room, including the things you had left behind in Dean’s the morning you had run away. 

Though you had agreed to come back and you were pleased with Dean’s reaction to your pregnancy, you were far from ready to make peace. The first few days back you had completely ignored Dean, refusing to be in the same room with him. You just couldn’t bear to see his face. Every time you saw his eyes you saw him gazing into the eyes of another woman and your heart broke again.

But you were soon forced to make yourself get over it.

Morning sickness set it sooner than you had anticipated. Odd food cravings took control of your mental state. And screaming for Sam every time you tumbled out of bed and to the toilet or every time you suddenly needed a pickle as though your life depended on it, became tiresome and you felt guilty. Also, there was just no way you could talk to Sam about the other side effects, like the constipation or the fact that you peed eighty times a day or that your boobs were always sore. 

And there were all the doctor appointments, all the ultra sounds to listen to and watch. You couldn’t rob Dean of those little pleasure, no matter how furious you were with him.

So you started talking to him, actually said good morning when you saw him the kitchen making breakfast, sat in the library while he and Sam looked into a case. Eventually you were able to join him on the couch while he watched an old Clint Eastwood film and those soon grew into Star Trek marathons full of personal commentary. 

Dean had been more than ready to step in the father’s role by taking care of you. He would hear you in the bathroom tossing your cookies and he’d show up with a glass of water. When you wanted something to eat, if he couldn’t make it he was out the door within seconds. 

As the pregnancy took a greater toll on your body, he was there every step of the way, offering feet and back rubs, motivating you to exercise when you didn’t want to, making sure you got enough sleep. He even went bra shopping with you when your boobs went through an apparent second puberty. 

And he went to every doctor appointment. He held your hand through every exam. And he always left the office with tears in his eyes.

The only thing you couldn’t do with Dean was go into his bedroom. You got woozy just walking past it on the way to yours. When you saw that bed all the betrayal just rose to slap you in the face. And you were so tired of feeling sad and angry so you avoided it, and the two of you did just fine.

Dean was attentive and affectionate. He and Sam had even both agreed to lay off hunting during you final trimester. The three of you had been nestled into the bunker like a nice normal family for weeks now. And it was everything you wanted, more than you had ever wished for.

You suddenly yawned and Dean’s attention snapped to you. “You okay, (Y/N)?” he asked as he put his tools down and walked toward you. “Have you taken a nap yet today?”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“Maybe you should go rest,” he pressed.

“Dean, I’m fine,” you repeated.

Dean didn’t appear to believe you. He checked his watch and his eyes widened. “It’s getting close to dinner time. Look, you go grab a few Zs while I make dinner. Then later we’ll get you in a bath ‘cause you’re feeling a little tense, okay?”

And that is exactly what happened. You zonked out on the couch and an hour later you woke up to find your legs propped up and dinner prepared. After dinner you watched a bit of TV with Sam while Dean cleaned up. And then you were whisked away to your bathroom where Dean filled the tub and added some special oils he found on Google that were supposed to help relieve stress. 

When Dean decided the water was at a safe temperature he helped lower you into the tub. When you were settled he turned to leave.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

Dean stopped. “I was gonna watch some TV with Sam. Why? Do you need something?” His eyes instantly looked panic.

You couldn’t help smirking. “Yeah, I need you to get your ass in here. You’re feeling a little tense too.”

Dean was frozen for a several seconds, deeply pondering your request. Then you scooted forward in the tub and he smiled and began to strip. 

You certainly enjoyed the show but not nearly as much as you enjoyed the feel of him pressed against your back. Dean’s knees bent on either side of your body and his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands resting on the swell of your stomach. Your head fell back on his chest and you felt the grumble of his chuckle through the water.

You closed your eyes and felt Dean’s body head seep into your back. You felt his fingers trace designs over your stomach, then felt some run through your hair. He presses kisses into your neck and shoulders, nibbled on your ears and you just sighed blissfully and melted in every sense of the word. 

You woke up in your bed, dressed in your favorite pajamas. Dean sat at the end of the bed, his feet pulled into his lap as he rubbed and kneaded them thoroughly. Your legs became heavy and limp in his care.

“You’re too perfect,” you murmured as you stared at the ceiling.

Dean didn’t reply for a while, concentrating on his current task. When he did speak, his voice was very soft. “I owe you at least that much.”

He never gave you a chance to respond. He kissed each of your feet then eased them into the bed and with a wave, he shut out your light and closed the door. 

You spent several hours peering into the darkness, wondering about Dean’s words. And as you pondered, they burned a hole in your heart. You loved that man so damn much and he didn’t even know it. Dean was still stewing in guilt over what had happened months ago and it was your fault because you never talked about it. You never allowed him to talk about it. Any time he had tried to bring it up you had run off, never wanting to listen. 

And you knew better than that when it came to Dean. Dean wasn’t the type you could trust to get past issues on his own. Dean had to be forced to talk thing through and even then, half the things said never stuck. Dean didn’t forgive his own mistakes and accepting another forgiveness was nearly impossible for him.

You didn’t want Dean to owe you. You wanted him to love you and only you and you wanted to be able to trust him. And you did. He had earned your trust back a while ago, making all of this utterly ridiculous.

You rolled out of bed and marched out of your room. You’d be damned if you spent another night alone again when all you craved was the feel of his arms around you in the dark.

Dean’s door suddenly loomed in front of you and you hesitated only a second before twisted the knob and tiptoeing inside. 

Dean’s room was pitch black but your memory led you to the bed. You went right to your side and slipped under the covers and burrowed into Dean’s side.

Dean jumped a little. “(Y/N)? Is that you?” he asked in a voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Sleeping.”

He was quiet for a moment and then slipped an arm around your waist to pull you closer and his chin settled on top of your head. Your nose brushed against in collarbone in this position and you inhaled the scent of him deeply. 

“I love you, Dean,” you whispered into his skin. “And I forgive you.”

Several minutes of silence passed. You were beginning to think Dean had fallen asleep before hearing your words.

Then you felt the strange sensation of something wet falling through your hair. You felt a few more drops as they met your scalp. Then Dean sniffed and you realized it was him. He was crying. 

It brought tears to your own eyes and you pressed as close to him as your stomach would allow and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said and bent to kiss your forehead. “Thank you.”

Another few kisses followed and then both of you began to quiet and still as sleep washed over you. Dean’s words were the last thing you heard before finally drifting off.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
